


Pulled from the Darkness

by Oliver__Niko



Series: SorMik Week 2019 [3]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: (sort of), (temporary thing), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sormik Week 2019, Tainted AU (Tales of Zestiria), Tainted Sorey (Tales of Zestiria)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 19:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20179705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: Distressed from all the hardships he has faced, Sorey allows himself to succumb to malevolence. However, he has not yet fallen completely; Mikleo knows that more than anything, Sorey is lost and hurt, unsure of where to turn. It's up to Mikleo to take his hand and show him the way.





	Pulled from the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I'm quite picky on Tainted AUs and I'm not fond of how they're usually portrayed, however I do like the emotional baggage it can bring. That's what I've aimed for here in this oneshot. I hope you enjoy!

Darkness has the potential to exist in everyone's hearts.

Even those whose heart and intentions alike are pure can be tainted. Light and dark have the same greatness, able to consume each other, although the temptation of the latter far exceeds that of the former.

Hopelessness, despair, fury—malevolence when shortened—are emotions no one can be utterly void of, regardless of their purity. Should you be strong, you can repress those negative emotions and prevent them from consuming you. Those who are pure will especially hold that strength and not allow ills to befall them.

Although repression also has its consequences.

If you are pushed and pushed, driven closer and closer to your limit, then it may only be a matter of time before you find yourself past the line of what you can bear. Your clouded eyes may even struggle to see the outstretched hand given to you by the one you love.

Try as he might, Sorey cannot hear their desperate screams, telling him to return. As though a veil has been used to blind his emotions, his sensibility and rationality, not a single word can pierce through the ice which encases his suffering heart.

_"Sorey! _Come back to us, don't let them taint you!"

Vaguely, he can hear him; his childhood best friend, screaming and screaming.

A part of him remains, the one who wants to return to Mikleo, the fragment of love he still experiences recalling the memory of those lips pressed against his own. The rest of him desires to murder those around him in cold blood for daring to not leave him alone.

"Stay back."

His voice is unrecognisable, a growl which is almost that of a hellion. They've taken him. Gramps. He has likely long since died.

And they're continuing to take everything, even Sorey's humanity.

“_Snap out of it!”_

A female voice now. Rose, most likely. A trusted friend, one he loves, yet another person who could end up dying because of him.

The cape which billows around him has darkened to the colour of the night sky. Only when you look at it, you are not filled with the same sense of peace. You are struck with dread instead. The simple changes of colour in Sorey’s attire, whilst usually would mean nothing more than a different appearance, combine with the atmosphere he radiates.

Everything reminds them of what his heart has become.

“This is what Heldalf has been saying all along.” Symonne’s voice, picking herself up from the ground, injured from their battle, paused by this enveloping darkness. A wicked smirk is etched on her face despite her pain. “This is all that is in store for the Shepherd. No matter where you go, no matter how hard you try, pain is all you will find. In the darkness, you will suffer.”

“That’s not true!” Lailah cries out. She, like those with her, clutches at her chest; she refuses to give into the malevolence which corrupts the chamber that surrounds them, nor that which is running through Sorey’s veins, channelling through the bonds which link him to his friends. “I understand all of the hardships you’ve faced, Sorey. Truly, I do! But that does not define you. There is still joy left waiting for you out there.”

“And don’t tell me you’ve not enjoyed a single part of your journey so far,” says Edna.

Perhaps Sorey has done so. He thinks that if he ponders hard enough over his past, he remembers happiness.

But has it ever been real? Or has it only been trickery, leading him to this moment? Does the love he feels towards Mikleo and his friends truly exist after all?

“There’s no use,” says Symonne, getting up onto shaking legs. “His fate has been determined. He has allowed himself to be tainted by the darkness. And he _will _join us. He will join us as we take down this wretched world!”

“I’m not.”

The two simple words cause Symonne to avert her eyes to Sorey. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m not joining you.” The glare he directs at her is enough to even make _her _flinch. A faint red tint flares from his usually friendly eyes, his face darkened. “I’m not joining anyone.”

“But this is the best path for you! Look at you!”

Symonne makes the mistake of limping towards Sorey. She gasps out as in one swift movement, a hand has reached for her throat and lifts her off the ground. Her struggles in this grip are futile, barely any energy remaining to conjure artes to assist in her escape.

Her eyes meet Sorey’s for a split second before she is thrown to the side. She falls to the floor with a cry, rolling over and coughing from the dirt and dust which fills her lungs.

“Sorey, please.” Mikleo’s voice is choked by now, the malevolence around him a restraint he powers through. “Please. Stay with us.”

“I’m telling you to leave me alone.” Sorey’s voice is low, yet threatening all at once. “I know my path now.”

“Mikleo,” says Zaveid warningly. His hand tugs at Mikleo’s arm, as though to suggest something as horrid as leaving Sorey here on his own.

“I know this isn’t you,” says Mikleo.

“Then you don’t know me at all.”

“Of course I do! Sorey, you know I lov—“  
His words are interrupted. With a wave of Sorey’s hand, lightning the colour of jet black strikes down from the sky. Mikleo can barely comprehend what is happening. All he is aware of is being dragged away, the group fleeing before they are harmed.

Sorey’s hand lowers. He stares, as though challenging them. All around him, malevolence swirls.

Every time they try to bring him closer, it only shoves him further away.

The malevolence is increasing. And it chokes them, an unyielding smoke which cannot be countered.

It is difficult to tell if Sorey has any sympathy at all when Mikleo collapses on the ground, crying out from the pain which flares in his chest. Water is so easily contaminated, yet somehow, Mikleo’s writhing doesn’t result in any transformation at all. Perhaps he is far too stubborn to allow himself to be tainted because of Sorey.

“We have to get out of here,” says Zaveid, pulling Mikleo up off the floor. _“Now!”_

“Lailah, temporarily stop our pacts,” says Edna, watching Sorey warily, although the man is walking away. Mikleo’s head snaps around to Edna.

“But—”

“Unless you want us to all turn into dragons, then it has to be done!”

Mikleo cannot speak. All he can focus on is how much he has fought to have this pact at all with Sorey. That day in the aqueduct, where Sorey wanted to do anything but allow Mikleo to become his Sub Lord, and the day where they also reunited. They confronted their fears and dreams that day and become one.

And now they want to take it all away.

Although he has seemed to already lost the man he loves.

‘_Wait,’ _is the single word Mikleo attempts to say, although his mind falls into unconsciousness before he even has the chance.

* * *

There is a common misconception about how memories emerge in dreams.

Rarely do they present every linear moment to you. Flashes of what has been are what your mind gives you instead.

The main focus when dreaming of the past is the emotions you felt on that day, what your senses experienced. There is far more to that than mere sight. The laughter you can hear, what you smell and taste, a warm summer’s air on your skin. Were you joyful? Distressed? Excited or agitated? Though your vision is not always clear, your heart swells with the emotions you once experienced.

And sometimes, these experiences may lead to you developing a new emotion in the here and now, a conscious awareness in your slumber.

Misery brought on by joy you fear you may never be given again.

As the distant murmur of voices gently eases Mikleo out from his slumber, he wakes with tears in his eyes.

“Where am I?” are the first words he mumbles. There is the sound of collective footsteps as the people in the room begin to surround him.

“There you are, finally awake,” says Zaveid.

“You’re in your home in Elysia,” says Lailah. “The malevolence rendered you unconscious.”

‘_And with a splitting headache, too,’ _Mikleo thinks to himself. He sits up in bed with a slight wince, pushing aside the hands which try and push him back down.

“You almost turned into a dragon,” says Edna. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“But Sorey’s still out there, suffering with this as we speak!” Mikleo protests.

“And it will do no good to allow ourselves to be tainted in that process,” says Lailah.

“Yeah, we were already cutting it pretty close,” adds Rose.

The reminder of the malevolence brings about confusion. Mikleo brings his focus on his body, realising that the overwhelming malevolence from Sorey no longer exists within it.

“You broke our pacts.”

“I simply put a pause on them,” says Lailah patiently. “A break which is only temporary. I had to, Mikleo. The only reason why Sorey had been the perfect vessel for us is because he is pure of heart. Now that heart is tainted, all of us ran the risk of turning into dragons.”

“And how are we supposed to save Sorey if we’re like that?” asks Zaveid. Mikleo runs his tongue over his lips, knowing this is correct, although still not fond of the idea.

“I’m not sure if being without a vessel is the best idea either,” says Mikleo.

“We’re returning to our old ones,” says Edna. “You need to figure out what you can use as well.”

He already knows what that would be. His hands reach under his fringe, bringing down the circlet which is hidden underneath. With his eyebrows furrowing, he rubs his thumbs gently over the gleaming metal. The same that his mother had worn.

Out of all that he owns, he knows that this will be the most untainted of all. Muse’s pure heart lives on inside.

He has thought about using this before. He knows that Sorey may be gone for some time. Centuries, even. One of Mikleo’s ways of bracing for that day is figuring out what comes next. And as he knows he will not have the heart to form a pact with any Shepherd but Sorey, he needs another option.

But this option is not available in this moment. Sorey is still here, alive even if not well, and Mikleo views not respecting this as betrayal.

“And where is Sorey now?” asks Mikleo.

“We’re not sure,” says Rose. “We’ll need to go find a strong source of malevolence, ask around about it. And listen—”  
“You’d kill him if it had to get to that,” says Mikleo. Fury grips at his heart, despite how he is well aware that if Sorey cannot return, this will be the only option. “I know. But I won’t allow it.”

Killing one to save many. Mikleo refuses to allow it to happen here. He will save Sorey before it does.

* * *

Once Mikleo has recovered enough from the malevolence, he is already walking through Elysia. His friends would not let him go at first, afraid he may go running off. They only let him once he promised he’d remain.

He is still questioning on whether or not he will do so.

A sky brimming with thousands of stars hangs above his head. Its beauty seems far too unfitting for the chaos which is occurring. Although its painful nostalgia, reminding Mikleo of the countless times he and Sorey have lounged by the cliff’s edge, watching these stars as though they hold every answer to every puzzle, is most certainly suitable to his melancholy.

He wishes those stars could give him the answer he needs now. And he wishes that Zenrus could guide him along with them.

He swallows, sitting down by the cliff-side. His throat aches and his eyes sting, knowing both mean he threatens tears, although he cannot allow them to fall. He has made a secret promise that he will only cry once everything is over.

“I’m sorry about Sorey, Mikleo.”

Mikleo’s head raises slightly over the sound of Natalie stood behind him. “I’ll get him back. It’s all right.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean you will do anything you will regret.” Bringing up her robes against her legs, Natalie sits down next to him, bringing her eyes up to the same sky.

“I don’t think I’d regret anything which would save him,” says Mikleo. “But I can’t deny I’m about to go do something stupid.”

“Such as running off to find Sorey and bring him back from the malevolence?”

Mikleo nods. “I bet that you’re going to make sure I don’t go as well, which I really can’t blame you for.”

“See, that is what I believe I should do. Yet simultaneously, I believe if there is anyone who can bring Sorey back, it’s you.”

Mikleo turns to Natalie, surprised to hear words of encouragement as opposed to demands for him to stay. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I know it’s dangerous to be with him now,” says Natalie. “But if there is one person that Sorey will let in, even when it seems like he has lost his mind, it’s you. He loves you, and I don’t think anything could change that.”

“I just don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“You’re believing in the wrong kind of strength.” Natalie’s hands raise, her fingers twirling to conjure ice. She begins to shape it into the shape of a rose. “Your love and care for him, as well as your courage, is something I haven’t seen so strong since Mason’s own emotions. Sorey too is the same. That is something that Sorey needs to see right now, for he is not evil. He is simply lost on his path and needs to be reminded about where his true joys lie.”

“See, I’m afraid that it isn’t so simple,” says Mikleo. Now he is away from his friends, those who have accepted that they must do all they can to not allow malevolence to take over the world, he finds that he can embrace his thoughts and emotions. He can admit his thoughts, his troubles, absent of the worry that his friends may deem him weak for it.

Natalie waits for him to continue. Patient and calm, a resemblance of the element she wields.

“It’s difficult for a Shepherd to return once they have fallen,” says Mikleo. His throat aches, as though he may burst into tears at any moment, yet his eyes remain dry all the same. “It’s far easier to fall victim to evil than it is to fight for good. And with all the tormenting Heldalf and Symonne have done, how much they have put him through, I …” Mikleo voice grows quieter. “I have to admit that I can’t blame him, and would probably fall myself if I was in his shoes. I almost did, but seraphim can’t generate their own malevolence. The others took me from there before it had the chance to consume me.”

“Water is particularly fragile to the attack of malevolence,” says Natalie. She finishes shaping the petals of the rose she has created. In the same way she did when Mikleo was a child, she tucks the icy rose behind Mikleo’s ear. The temperature makes him shiver, yet the familiar gesture brings him warmth simultaneously. “You did well to fight it off. And I imagine there is a part of you that worries because Sorey could not do the same, your friends believe he is weak.”

“Which he’s not,” says Mikleo immediately. “It’s different for humans. And Sorey might be pure of heart, but even he has a limit. I know he is strong.”

“Then what is to say he is not strong enough to return to you?”

Eyebrows furrowing, Mikleo stares down at his hands. “It’s not that I don’t think he can fight. I just don’t know if he will find any desire in doing so.”

The confession causes him to swallow, now feeling the tears he has fought back form in his eyes. He continues to prevent them from falling. He did so when he found out he was a sacrifice, when his mother died before his very eyes.

There is no time for crying. Yet when Natalie’s arm wraps around his shoulders to bring him closer, he almost breaks instantly.

“Let’s think back for a moment, back to when I started to teach you about how to create sculptures from ice,” says Natalie.

Mikleo is puzzled, unable to see the correlation between this and the subject at hand, although he trusts in any judgement she makes. He remains silent.

“I remember how much you struggled,” Natalie continues. “You struggled to get the edges crisp enough, or for the details to be accurate with what you were trying to create. The fiddly, tiny parts would break off, and you would get frustrated. Do you remember?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then I’m sure you remember how Sorey had been as well as you had been learning.”

Mikleo nods, the smile on his face bittersweet. “He was as determined as I was that I would get it right. He kept encouraging me and cheering me on, knowing that I had it in me. I swear that he was more victorious than I was every time something went right.”

“And there was more, wasn’t there?” asks Natalie. She gently eases Mikleo from her, so the two are sitting up separated from each other. “More that he did than simply give you those verbal encouragements.”

Another nod, Mikleo bringing himself back to the past. “He began to train even more often with me, saying that the more I could control my seraphic artes, the better I could handle the ice I’m trying to construct. He even went as far as figuring out when the night is coldest, yet also not late enough to miss out on sleep, so there was no chance of ice melting.” Mikleo smiles to himself, both comforted and distraught by these old memories. “He also began to collect the items that I was trying to create, like objects and pieces of food, and got me to stare at them and study their structures. Because as you said …”

“… The better you understand that you are trying to create, the more solid the forms you create will be,” says Natalie.

“And he said that the best way to learn that at all would be by studying it face on.” Mikleo holds his hands out in front of himself, only having to concentrate a little these days to conjure mist. As he furrows his brow, the mist begins to solidify, forming ice which floats above his hands. “It did help a lot, actually. It’s a lot similar to referencing what’s around you for drawings. Only you’re making sculpture out of an element instead.”

“Precisely.”

Mikleo remains silent for a minute as he begins to manipulate the ice, shaping it into the image in his mind. When he has finished his construction, he holds his left hand out further in front of him; resting in his palm is the Shepherd’s symbol.

He almost wishes to break it, it’s so painful to look at.

“What has this got to do with Sorey?” he has to ask.

“I think it’s simply just one of many examples of how determined and hard-working Sorey is,” says Natalie, her eyes on the ice in Mikleo’s hand. “He has never been one to do anything half-heartedly. He wishes to better himself, always. And not only that, but this story proves something else.”

“What is it?” says Mikleo. He watches as Natalie removes the ice rose behind his ear, which has began to drip. She closes her hand, and as it opens, the ice disappears in a draft of snow.

“How much he cares for you,” says Natalie. “He puts in so much for you, always. It could be something as simple as helping to craft roses out of ice, or something as serious as this. Sorey knows that the two of you cannot be together when he is cloaked in darkness. After all, you would no longer be yourself, should you turn into a dragon.”

“And you think he cares enough that the thought of that alone would bring him back?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

His hand tightening into a loose fist, he does the exact same as Natalie did to her rose, watching as it fades away. If he did not already know, then he would not have the right to say there is love between him and Sorey.

He knows. He has always known that should Sorey go down the wrong path, Mikleo will be there to guide him from it once again.

This time is no different. It simply might require a larger push than usual.

* * *

Mikleo leaves Elysia alone.

He knows that he is taking far too much risk. As soon as his friends know of his disappearance, they will be furious with him and attempt to search for him immediately.

The only advantage he has is his earlier departure and how he is likely much faster at figuring out where Sorey would go in this moment of time, granting him that extra time to put time and distance between him and his friends.

It takes a moment to consider. Considering the party have already been in Elysia, the first option on Mikleo’s mind, it is naturally impossible that Sorey is there.

Mikleo’s second choice would be the alter at Ladylake, where Sorey became the Shepherd. This too seems unlikely; Mikleo doubts Sorey wants to be near civilisation. Though destruction may be in Sorey’s path if he continues to succumb to darkness, it appears as though this is not his current aim.

He is filled to the brim with devastation. He has grown furious yet lost simultaneously. At the moment, he must be wandering, uncertain of what to do with himself nor of the path he should take.

The only clear thought in his mind would to unleash revenge on Heldalf. One might believe this is a good thing, when that is the man they must stop anyway, however Mikleo knows that the consequences of Sorey doing so when his mind is this gone could be just as devastating as leaving Heldalf to his devices.

Time has put distance between Sorey and Mikleo. However, the latter also believes that through Sorey’s clouded eyes and a mind filled with mournful confusion, he probably has not gone all that far.

Mikleo realises the moment he sets foot back into the depths of the ruins that there is no chance of remaining himself if he heads through without a vessel. The malevolence which seeps through to the entrance is enough to cause Mikleo drop down to his knees. A breathless gasp escapes his lips.

He realises now just how vital Sorey being his vessel had been. Breathing in deeply and accepting there is no other choice, he reaches for his circlet.

It will do as a temporary vessel. He doubts that an inanimate object, even if blessed by the purity of his mother, would do the job as well as a human with a heart as pure as Sorey’s. However, if it allows him to venture through without losing himself to the thick malevolence, then so be it.

Before the circlet is returned to his forehead, he presses a kiss on the emerald in its centre. It is as though his trachea is being choked. He might not have known his mother personally, yet her loss has hurt him like any other, and he finds himself wishing she could be with him now.

Yet she is not. He has lost her. He could lose Gramps as well.

If he had been the human, he knows that he too would have fallen. But he hasn’t. And that means he is still standing and, as a person who understands Sorey’s agony, he is the one who can help bring Sorey back.

The hellions the party had fought within these ruins had been tough, wielding strength unlike any they have fought before. The density of the malevolence here is bound to be what has caused it. Mikleo knows that by trekking through here alone, he is playing a dangerous game, one he may not survive.

He doesn’t deserve his life, however, if he cannot use it to save the ones he loves.

A silent prayer to whoever might be listening is given as Mikleo sprinkles holy water around himself. He is then jogging forward, knowing that the sooner he gets through here, the better. He doubts that all of the hellions in this place can be kept away by mere holy water.

His hands are trembling. His legs are weak. As much as he wishes to race through here, he takes it slow, making use of his honed skills to keep his presence hidden. The irritating Water Trial seems to be a blessing now; it had turned out to be the perfect practice for this.

He dares to not even breathe too loudly. Violet eyes dart around the room, taking note of the hellions scattered in the darkness. Despite his insecurities, he knows that he is strong enough to take on one, but that will never be the case with hellions. They group together and try to take you down at once.

Besides, he cannot even currently purify them. If they notice him … It makes him nauseous to think about what would come after. This escalates to thinking he may vomit when his spectral cloak gives way, and a hellion is not quite weak enough to be fended off by the holy water.

Eyes of scarlet meet his. He swallows, gripping tightly on his staff as he immediately casts an arte, sending shards of ice planting into the hellion. He knew before he even tried that it would not be enough, and this single attack has drawn the attention of others.

Before he can even move, a strike has caused him to hit back into a wall. His cry is caught in his throat, winded by the impact. He falls to the floor, managing to roll out of the way before another hits him.

And he runs. That’s all he can do if there are this many with their piercing gazes upon him. He attempts to heal a cut in his side, struggling to breathe and to even think; the malevolence becomes more and more overpowering the closer he gets to Camlann.

He hears the steps behind him. Terrified to turn around and knowing it’d slow him down anyway, he continues to run. Faster, faster, a trip over stones faltering his movements; by now, however, it seems as though he has reached far too past their current hideaway for them to follow.

Fresh air hits him. His legs trembling, he pushes himself forward out of these ruins. He remains stood at the exit, only able to look around him, as he stares at the remains of what had once been the village he had been born in.

Through the Earthen Historia, he and the others could see that this had once been a flourishing village. Quaint and lovely homes filled it, a number of villagers residing here. Heldalf’s attack, however, has left ruin in its wake and nothing but ashes and rubble. None of it has been cleared since then.

The malevolence is overwhelming. It is so dense, you can see it clearly in the wafts of smoke, streaming through the air. Mikleo’s hand clutches at his chest. He cannot know for sure if this malevolence is caused by Heldalf’s presence at Artorius’ throne and the hellions he has attracted alone, or if Sorey is contributing to it.

It doesn’t matter either way. Mikleo must do what must be done.

Hellions gather here also, yet luckily for Mikleo, are at a distance; they appear to not have yet noticed that there is an intruder among them. He takes his careful footsteps forward. It is almost as though he is in another world entirely, Artorius’ throne casting an eerie light onto the sky. Is that where Sorey has already headed? Is it too late, and Sorey will commit murder when his heart is not pure enough to handle it?

No. Mikleo can see it. The black Shepherd’s cloak flowing in the wind, its golden detailing catching the light as it sways.

Gently back and to. It reminds Mikleo of the amusing times which have come from this cloak, when Rose would chase it, or Sorey would put it on Mikleo and laugh, saying it’s a good job that the Shepherd didn’t turn out to be as small as Mikleo.

He is sensitive to those jokes and always gets defensive. Yet now, as all he wants is for Sorey to be back, he would do anything to hear it all again.

“Sorey?” he forces himself to call out. There is the slightest tremble in his voice.

And though there are no clear signs of acknowledgement, he can sense a change in the air.

“Sorey, it’s me,” says Mikleo, heading closer. “It’s Mikleo.”

“Why did you come here?”

The words are quiet, barely able to be heard by Mikleo. They almost sound … normal. As though Sorey is not corrupted, that he is simply lost, confused and hurt by the world around him.

“I couldn’t just leave you. Not like this.”

“That’s exactly what you should have done. You’re playing a dangerous game by following me.”

At last, Sorey turns. The flash of crimson from his usually friendly eyes cause Mikleo to shudder. Despite how there are little differences to his appearance, certainly no clear attributes of a hellion, the changes which _are _there make Mikleo’s blood run cold.

“I don’t care,” says Mikleo. “I said I’d follow you, no matter what happens. And that’s what I’m doing now.”

“Only you won’t let me stay this way, I reckon?” asks Sorey. Mikleo shakes his head.

“Exactly that. This isn’t you. And after all the fighting you’ve done to stay that way, no matter how many difficult decisions you’ve had to make, I don’t want to see it all waste away.”

“It’s exactly those decisions, and everything else, which has lead me to this.” Sorey begins to head closer to Mikleo. His chest tightens, his instincts telling him to run, although he stands his ground. “I get it now, how much of a burden it is being the Shepherd. I can see why so many of us end up falling.”

“I understand how much of a burden it has been on you,” says Mikleo. “I do. That’s why I wanted to make sure that it was truly what you wanted, being the Shepherd. And you did it anyway. Why?”

“I don’t know why,” Sorey snaps. “Because it sure lead me into a mess, didn’t it?”

“No, you do know. All of us do. It’s been your dream all your life, hasn’t it? To reunite humans and seraphim?”

Mikleo forces himself to move closer to Sorey. They are as close as Mikleo can dare. Goosebumps form on his skin, able to sense the watchful eyes of hellions, although he remains still.

“And now you’re about to throw all that away. I don’t think that’s what you want.”

“How would _you _know what I want?” says Sorey.

“Because I know you better than anyone.” Mikleo’s tongue runs over his lips, dampening how dry they are; he wonders if it’s because he is sweating from this malevolence, moisture seeping from his body. “I know how much you’re suffering.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Don’t play that childish card on me. You know I do.” Mikleo’s eyes close for a moment, catching his lost breath, before continuing. “I’ve lost so much as well, in case you’ve forgotten. We all have. We understand you and can help you, so long as you just let us!”

“You can’t help. No one can.”

“Get over yourself.”

The words, repeated from the past, cause Sorey’s eyes to widen. Only now malevolence consumes him, his mind clouded, he reacts far more drastically back then. With a swing of Sorey’s arm, covered in the same obsidian lightning as before, Mikleo cries out as he is knocked forcefully off his feet and hits into a wall nearby.

“Get over myself? When I’ve had to bear all of this, often times alone? When I’m shunned from other people, yet can’t truly be with the seraphim either?”

“You _are _a part of us,” says Mikleo, wincing as he gets to his knees. “I promise. I know that it’s been lonely, I do. Seraphim perceive things differently to you. Yet that’s why Rose joined us, isn’t it? You’re not alone. We will never allow it. And that’s exactly how you’d end up if you let yourself stay this way.”

“And who’s to say that’s a bad thing, when this means no one else will get hurt because of me?”

A realisation hits Mikleo. “So that’s another thing going on here. You think that we don’t want you here anymore. Or at the very least, you think that we shouldn’t be with you, because we’re only going to get harmed that way.”

The silence that Mikleo is given confirms his words. He gets back onto his shaking legs, bringing his gaze up to Sorey.

“Less people have been hurt since you became the Shepherd,” says Mikleo. “And if you let yourself fall this way, you’d be changing that. If you truly cared for us, you’d not be like this, because you know that this harms us more than any of your good would. You’re just being too stubborn to see it.”

“And you’re being too stubborn to listen to me and _leave me alone.”_

The final words are spat out, the hint of an inhumane growl in his voice, although Mikleo still doesn’t waver.

“I won’t leave you alone, even if I had to sacrifice myself to do it. I won’t stand by and watch you let everything go to waste, Sorey! I just won’t!”

Sorey stares at him, eyes expressing the maelstrom of emotions he is battling. His rage and unclear mind takes over rather than a strength to confront his ordeals head on; Mikleo gasps as a gloved hand clutches his throat. He is lifted off the ground, back colliding with the wall behind him.

“Why can’t you just see I’ve had enough?” Sorey demands, Mikleo grasping at his arm. “Why are you doing this?”

“B-Because I know you. I know that this isn’t what you want.”

Sorey’s teeth run over his lip. “I don’t have a choice. I’m not strong enough to finish all this.”

“But you are. I promise you are.” Mikleo attempts to inhale deeply, feet still dangling against the rocky surface. “And we’re here to help you, if you’d just let us. Please. Please don’t push us away.”

“That’s the only way to help you.” Sorey’s voice is quiet, although uncertain over his own statements.

Mikleo shakes his head as best as he can in Sorey’s grip. “You’re making me suffer more by doing this.”

These words above all are the ones who pierce through Sorey the most. Sorey’s hand releases Mikleo, the latter falling to the floor, spluttering for breath as he holds onto his neck. Before he even has the chance to look at Sorey, he feels the other’s warmth, taken into his embrace.

“I’m sorry.” The words are gasped out, Mikleo able to hear Sorey’s tears through his voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry—”

Mikleo smiles, tears brimming in his own eyes as he returns Sorey’s hug. “It’s okay. I just want you back.”

Sorey nods into Mikleo’s shoulder, bringing him closer. “I don’t want to run. Not really.”

“Then stay. We can get through this, I promise. We’ve already come so far, haven’t we?”

Another nod. Although after it, Sorey gently pushes Mikleo back from him. His tearful eyes stare straight into Mikleo’s, returning to their normal self. The darkness of his attire is also lightening before Mikleo’s very eyes.

“I’ve been an idiot,” says Sorey, causing Mikleo to chuckle, cupping Sorey’s cheek with his hand.

“Maybe. But hey, I’ve always had to deal with that, so this time is no different.”

Sorey laughs through his tears—a sound Mikleo swears he has not heard for a whole eternity—before he is bringing his lips to Mikleo’s. It is salty from tears, uncomfortable on the hard ground, yet Mikleo kisses back desperately nonetheless.

“_Sorey! Mikleo!”_

The shout from their friends causing them to break apart. Both of their eyes widen as they see a hellion head straight towards them. A rock shoots up from the ground however, knocking it of its path, and a blade of wind is soon to follow.

“Mikleo, we were so worried about you!” Lailah exclaims. “Don’t let us worry like that again!”

“Even if it meant I saved Sorey?” Mikleo asks. He watches Sorey get to his feet.

“I’m sorry, guys,” he says. “Truly. I … I didn’t mean to let everything fall on me like that.”

“You’ve been through a lot, so we understand,” says Zaveid.

“Plus, you came back,” Edna adds. “A lot of other Shepherds can’t say the same, so I think you’re doing fine.”

Sorey is silent as he helps Mikleo off the ground, before he nods slowly. “I need to remember all I’ve done to get this far. I don’t want to throw that away.” His eyes find Mikleo, smiling and squeezing the other’s hand. “And no matter how long this can last for, I can’t lose people around me, either.”

“And we’re not losing you,” says Mikleo. Sorey’s lips find the side of Mikleo’s head in response to these words.

He is grateful. Unbelievably grateful that he has these people who love him and will never give up on him. Friends and a lover who appreciate him more than anything, helping him to fight through any obstacle.

He cannot be the reason he loses them.

Even if, he realises as he looks at Artorius’ Throne in the distance, they are going to lose him in another way regardless. At least this path will mean he never betrays who he is or what he stands for.


End file.
